


Back And Forth From New York

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Album: Lover (Taylor Swift), Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, F/M, Feminine Harry, Genderfluid Harry, Getting Back Together, Harry Styles in a Dress, M/M, Other, Polyamorous Character, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “Do you ever feel like two different people?”“Do you?” Xander asked. He raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Harry, watching as he leaned further and further over the balcony railing to look down at the downtown Miami down below. His cross pendant dangled from his neck, glinting in the neon lights as it swayed precariously out in the open air.“Sometimes,” Harry replied with a shrug.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Others, Xander Ritz/Harry Styles
Comments: 5
Kudos: 84





	Back And Forth From New York

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Request, but I was given a lot of leeway to do whatever I felt like doing, so I ended up putting together a series of vignettes that are somewhat inspired by songs from Lover. Taylor isn't relevant to this at all, it's just a good album for the theme I wanted this fic to have! Enjoy the softness and angst. :)
> 
> Warnings for some gender confusion stuff that is threaded throughout. Harry's pronouns are variable depending on the time period.
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

2014 (Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince)

“Do you ever feel like two different people?”

“Do you?” Xander asked. He raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Harry, watching as he leaned further and further over the balcony railing to look down at the downtown Miami down below. His cross pendant dangled from his neck, glinting in the neon lights as it swayed precariously out in the open air.

“Sometimes,” Harry replied with a shrug.

When Xander had first met Harry, he’d been startled by how quiet he often was, especially in private. It was a sharp contrast to the boisterous energy onstage, the first iteration of Harry’s multifaceted personality that Xander had been exposed to. He was more used to Harry’s mannerisms now, but it still caught him off guard sometimes, the fact that Harry often said things without saying anything at all. Xander had been worried he was misreading things from the very beginning—but then Chicago happened, and the rest was history.

“So which two are you?” Xander asked, aiming for lighthearted just to shift the tone of the conversation. They were supposed to be celebrating, but Harry had retreated from the party almost immediately, and Xander hadn’t been able to resist the urge to follow. “Famous and not-famous?”

Harry continued staring down at the cars zooming past them in the street before finally shaking his head a few minutes later. “No,” he answered. “I don’t think there’s any way to separate the two now.”

He didn’t elaborate any further, so Xander decided to keep guessing. His eyes homed in again on the cross hanging from Harry’s neck. “Spiritual and non-believer?” he tried.

Harry’s face creased into something lightly amused as he turned his body to face Xander. “What makes you think I don’t believe?” he challenged.

Xander shrugged. “Do you?”

Harry slowly exhaled as he answered. “In some things,” he said. “But maybe not in everything.” He squinted at Xander pensively and nodded toward the cross that could only just barely be seen through the open collar of Xander’s shirt. “You wear one, too,” he pointed out. “Do you believe?”

Xander didn’t have a good answer for that. “I don’t know,” he replied a few seconds later. He glanced down at the cross, feeling the weight of it suddenly when before it had been something he didn’t even think about. “It was a family heirloom more than anything. My mom started to go to church again when we were kids, but she never really pressured us into coming. My grandparents used to do a seder and take us to synagogue a couple times a year, but after they passed away my dad just never really took on the mantle, I guess.”

Harry’s expression brightened suddenly. “I love going to synagogue,” he volunteered. “We should go together sometime.”

Xander wasn’t quite sure how to react to the invitation. “I mean, yeah,” he said. “Sure. We can do that.”

Harry broke into a smile as he turned away again. It was another thirty seconds before he said anything at all, and in that time, Xander just stared at him, memorizing his profile, watching the colored lights dancing over his face.

“I’m going to an antiques shop near the hotel tomorrow morning,” Harry said casually, though there was still a trace of his smile lingering on his face. “You should come with me.”

“To your hotel?” Xander replied automatically.

Harry looked up at him again, his eyes dark. “If that’s what you want.”

Less than an hour later, Xander was on his back in Harry’s bed, all thoughts of duality and godlessness erased from his mind in the instant that Harry crawled on top of him in nothing but Xander’s own discarded button-up. Harry’s curls hung loosely around his face, framing his cheeks in a way that made him look even more cherubic than he normally seemed. The cross was still dangling from his neck, swinging like a pendulum as he moved over Xander in a way that felt like imminent foreshadowing of what was to follow.

“Have you ever done this before?” Xander asked.

Harry laughed and nodded. “Have you?” he shot back.

“Slept with a guy?” Xander pretended not to notice the almost imperceptible flinch as Harry reacted to his words. “You’ll be my first.”

Harry was silent again as he rolled the condom on, and for a moment Xander wondered if he should stop him, if they should talk about whatever it was that was troubling Harry so much first. Then Harry was sinking down onto his cock, and Xander forgot how to even breathe.

Afterward, when they were lying next to each other in the dark, Xander felt Harry shift closer. A fingertip slowly dragged against the angle of his jaw, scraping over his stubble, then down his throat to his collarbone, where it came to rest with the flat of Harry’s palm, warm and burning like a brand.

“You should come to London,” Harry said softly.

Xander had a job, a life, a career in New York City that he’d already abandoned for weeks now because he’d been introduced to a beautiful stranger at a concert he hadn’t even wanted to attend in the first place, not realizing at the time just how thoroughly it would change his entire life.

“I should,” was all Xander said back.

2015 (Cruel Summer)

Georgie had always extolled the perfection of a West Coast summer, but there was a distinct difference between the breezy August afternoons spent at her Bay Area apartment and the muggy week in July that Xander was whiling away in Los Angeles with Harry attached at his hip. Not that he was complaining. He was pretty sure they’d had more sex in the past three days than he’d ever had in a single month before dating Harry. Or whatever it was that they were doing.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Harry told him for the tenth time as he pulled on a pair of silver and teal boots, the only splash of color in his otherwise all-black ensemble.

“Do you want me to come?” Xander asked frankly. Sure, he was a little camera shy, but it was beginning to seem like something that he would have to make his peace with sooner or later. If Harry wanted him there during the pap walk his management was asking for, then Xander would go with him.

Harry paused for a second, his fingers still hooked into the top of his boot, and then nodded at last.

“Then we’ll make a date out of it,” Xander decided.

All in all, being not-so-covertly photographed wasn’t that bad—though Xander was tempted to ham it up a bit once Harry floated the idea of returning the favor with a blowjob, something he made good on in the car in the middle of the parking garage after they finished shopping at the last store Harry had wanted to go to.

They were both sweaty and sticky and overheated by the time the sun finally began to set, and Xander would have loved nothing more than to head home and shower together, but when Harry suggested they finish out the evening by going to a bar, Xander couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“What about the car?” Xander pointed out when they were halfway across town on their way to one of Harry’s preferred watering holes, someplace they wouldn’t be bothered or recognized.

A slow look of realization slowly blossomed into existence on Harry’s face. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “Right. Well, I can call a car and have someone pick it up.”

“Nah,” Xander replied after quickly making a decision about how he wanted the rest of the night to go. “I can drive us.”

“You’re sure?”

Xander nodded. Harry was high maintenance as a drunk in the sense that he needed more attention than Xander could provide if he was focused on drinking as well, and Xander didn’t want one of Harry’s security guards or some random asshole from a professional car service intruding on their plans later on.

Xander’s instincts ended up being correct. Harry spent enough time in the bathroom after getting sufficiently drunk at the bar that Xander might have been worried if he didn’t know what he was really up to. The request to drive out to the beach to look at the full moon was no surprise when Harry finally emerged, pink-cheeked and looking a few degrees more sober than he’d been when he left.

They drove in silence, their hands interlinked next to the gear shift as Xander cruised down the highway at a sedate speed before pulling off at the place Harry had indicated.

“Cut the headlights,” was all Harry said before climbing into his lap.

Xander had to push back the seat as far as it would go to give Harry enough room to slide his too-tight jeans down his thighs. He couldn’t see anything but Harry’s hair hanging in his face, but he could smell him, could taste the salt on his skin when he surged forward to bite at the underside of Harry’s chin, yanking a gasp out of him while Harry struggled to get Xander’s cock out of his pants.

Then without warning, Xander was inside Harry, and he couldn’t focus on anything else. It wasn’t until after he’d come that he realized Harry’s face was buried against his chest and that he was shaking—tears soaking through his cotton tee until he could feel it against his skin.

“Fuck,” Xander exhaled through gritted teeth. He wound a hand through Harry’s hair, cradling the back of his neck. “Did I hurt you?”

Harry shook his head and continued weeping. “No,” he managed. “’M just really drunk. Sorry.”

Xander stared at him with only the dim moonlight coming in through the car windows to illuminate Harry’s features, trying to puzzle out whether Harry was telling him the truth.

“You’d tell me if there was something really wrong, right?”

Harry’s mouth pulled up at one side into a half-smile. “You’d be the first to know,” he said before leaning in to press his lips against Xander’s, the taste of tequila still sharp on his tongue.

2016 (Afterglow)

Xander booked a ticket for LAX as soon as Harry texted him to let him know when she was returning home. It had been a long year—both with and without Harry by his side. He didn’t know what to think when Harry called him the day before his flight and asked him to cancel his trip, claiming that something had come up and that she would cover the cost of rescheduling the flight.

“When?” Xander asked desperately.

Harry didn’t have an answer.

Xander didn’t get another phone call until Halloween, when his phone unexpectedly lit up with an unknown number while he was at a party with Max. His first instinct was to ignore it, but the false hope that Xander had been harboring for months now suddenly flared into existence as he realized that it might be Harry after all.

It wasn’t, but it _was_ her assistant, who carefully explained that Harry would be in Los Angeles to see a show at the Forum that she’d like him to accompany her to if Xander was able to attend. He accepted, pointedly ignoring the fact that he was booked up all throughout the week with meetings and that it was a stupid thing to do.

Xander didn’t know how to react when he finally saw Harry again, for the first time since she’d cut her hair and gone off to another country for weeks with little to no communication for the duration of filming, only to ghost him completely as soon as she returned home.

She looked like a different person now, the softness that Xander so fondly remembered gone and in its place an icy edge that made him approach her warily as he was led over to her seats by a security guard.

Harry didn’t say a word as Xander took a seat next to her. She didn’t utter a word for the entirety of the show, and Xander wasn’t sure how to break the silence, so he kept quiet too, choosing to watch her instead of the stage so that when he inevitably had to go another six months without her, he’d have a fresh memory in his mind to come back to.

It wasn’t until they were in the back of the car on the way to Harry’s house that she finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Xander looked over at her in surprise, straightening up out of the slouch he’d relaxed into over the course of the long drive. “For what?” If either of them had anything to apologize for, it was him. And he had. Over and over again.

“For shutting you out like this,” Harry replied softly. “It wasn’t…it’s complicated.”

She was silent again, and Xander was suddenly worried that that was the end of it, that they would return to Harry’s house and he would be shown to the guest bedroom to sleep the night off before being kicked to the curb at LAX in the morning.

“Why did you even invite me here?” Xander asked, his flight-or-fight instincts activating, accelerating his heartbeat, making his breath quicken.

Harry looked surprised by the question. “I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you,” she replied simply, as though the answer should have been obvious. “And I thought—” She stopped, turning her face away from Xander for a few seconds before continuing. “You know what day it is, don’t you?”

Xander knew. He’d known the second Harry’s assistant had informed him when the show was, and he’d suspected that it was significant for that reason. It wasn’t until he’d been confronted with this new Harry and the walls that she’d built around herself in the past year that he’d begun to doubt.

For Xander, there wasn’t a single day in his life that he could point to that was more important to him than that cold day in Holmes Chapel he’d spent with Harry last fall, when she’d finally confessed to him everything that he’d already started to suspect.

And then it had all gone to hell in a handbasket in a matter of months. And Xander only had himself to blame for the aftermath.

“Yeah,” he finally replied. “I know what day it is.”

Harry didn’t say anything else until after they got to the house, at which point she led Xander by the hand through the front door and into her bedroom upstairs. “After this,” she said as she peeled off her clothes and climbed onto the bed, “I think we should take a break for a little while.”

“Isn’t that what we were doing already?” Xander asked.

Harry ignored the question and got on her hands and elbows, her back arched as she spread her legs invitingly. Xander couldn’t make himself walk out the door.

He fucked her angrily, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind his eyes as he pounded into her hard, listening to her muffled shrieks as she tried to cover the sound with her face pressed against the pillow.

They were both quiet afterwards, and Xander was surprised when Harry was the one to break the silence as they lay next to each other in bed without touching.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him. “I just don’t know who I am anymore. And it’s not fair to you.”

Xander stared up at the ceiling, unsure of what she meant but unable to bring himself to ask for an explanation. She was already gone when he woke up the next morning. He never got a second chance.

2017 (The Archer)

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” Xander asked without looking up from the report he was supposed to send a reply to in the next hour. Easier said than done with Harry hanging around his office, but their time was limited now in a way that it wasn’t before. Xander simply had to accept Harry when and where he could have him.

He was used to Harry asking him things at the end of a train of thought that never made it past Harry’s lips until it arrived at the station, the snippets of his stream of consciousness nearly incomprehensible at the best of times. Often, he wouldn’t answer when Xander asked for clarification, instead choosing to just stare back silently with a vaguely constipated expression on his face.

Xander was expecting the same in this case, and was so focused on his work that it took him by surprise when Harry actually had a response ready.

“That you’re sleeping with a man,” Harry replied, his face and tone completely static, betraying nothing as he looked at Xander with wide eyes.

“It didn’t bother me the first time,” Xander replied. That wasn’t strictly true, but Xander had tamped down his initial panic for Harry’s sake. He’d never admitted it, but there had been something close to relief when Harry had told him that he thought he was a woman; some part of Xander still clinging to an identity he had never had to question until Harry had suddenly come crashing into his life, suddenly reaffirmed when it turned out Harry wasn’t a man after all.

But even that had changed, it seemed. Xander had done his best not to question Harry’s halting admission that he’d been wrong before when this new confession had come just a few months before Harry’s tour had started. He would never pretend to fully comprehend the turmoil that Harry must have dealt with over his identity in the past couple years, and he wanted to be nothing if not compassionate and understanding. Even if he didn’t really understand any of it.

“That was then,” Harry pointed out. “This is now.” But he didn’t give Xander a chance to amend his answer before moving on to the next thought. “Can I suck you off under the desk?”

Xander finally tore his eyes away from his computer screen to meet Harry’s. He lifted his eyebrows skeptically. “Is you-know-who cool with that?”

“He doesn’t tell me what to do,” Harry said confidently. “He knows better than anyone that I don’t do commitment. Not anymore at least.”

They didn’t make a habit of discussing Harry’s past relationships, and Xander was even more reluctant to discuss his present ones. Not out of jealousy, though that was certainly a factor, but more because the few times Xander had been in the same room as Nick Grimshaw, the other man had scared the holy hell out of him.

“If you say so,” Xander replied as he shuffled back a bit in his chair so Harry could slip underneath his desk on his knees. He surveyed Harry in that position for a moment, considering. “Do you want me to lock the door?” he asked. “I don’t think anyone would see if you if they walked in, but….”

“Leave it,” Harry told him. The answer wasn’t surprising. Harry was a bit of an exhibitionist, in the ways that were practical for him to indulge in it, at least. It was safe enough for him to deepthroat Xander’s cock under a giant desk that would shield him from any unexpected visitors, but the excitement of knowing that someone could walk in was enough to get them both off a lot quicker than if they’d taken all the necessary precautions to make sure they weren’t interrupted.

Xander stayed completely still while Harry unzipped his pants and took his cock into his mouth, waiting until he was nearly at the back of Harry’s throat before winding a hand in his hair to keep him there while he turned his attention back to work.

There was only one interruption, from the receptionist, who was inside Xander’s office for all of five seconds before walking out again. Xander came almost as soon as she was gone, and Harry took it all without complaint. When he crawled out from under the desk again, he looked like the cat that ate the canary, right down to the hand smearing over his lips to clean away any traces of what they’d been up to.

“Guess I should wait a little while before I head out,” he noted. “Don’t want to give your poor secretary a heart attack.”

“Receptionist,” Xander corrected automatically.

Harry ignored him. His hand was already in his pocket, his fingers on his phone typing away another message to Nick, no doubt, the way he’d been doing all day even though it was Xander that he was supposed to be spending time with.

Xander had resigned himself to the new normal, had convinced himself that Harry’s inattention no longer bothered him. He’d already gotten too close and had suffered for it. He would rather have Harry at arm’s length than not at all.

2018 (Lover)

Xander got the call just after midnight.

“I’m getting on a plane. Are you in New York?”

“Fuck,” Xander said sleepily as he rolled over in bed with his phone pressed to his ear, still not fully processing the fact that it was Harry’s voice on the other end of the line. “What? No, I’m in LA.”

“Thank god. I’ll be there in twelve hours.”

Harry hung up, leaving Xander lying there half-asleep and confused, wondering why the hell Harry was flying out to meet him without even knowing which city he was in first.

Harry was a mess when Xander picked him up from the airport. He didn’t attempt to question it, just focused on getting them back to the apartment in one piece while Harry shuddered with quiet, hiccupping sobs in the passenger seat.

When they got home, Xander carefully undressed Harry and pushed him into the shower before heading into the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee. He waited there at the kitchen table, wanting to give Harry his space until he was ready to face the world again.

It was a good thirty minutes before Harry finally emerged, dry-eyed but looking terrifying vacant as he marched over to him wearing clothes he’d clearly taken out of Xander’s closet and thrown onto himself without a care for how poorly they fit.

Harry ignored the cup of coffee Xander tried to put in his hands and instead wrapped his arms around his waist, his fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of Xander’s t-shirt and bunching it up in his fists as he walked backwards, taking Xander with him.

“You need to eat and drink something,” Xander tried to insist as they walked out into the middle of the living room with Harry’s face pressed to his chest.

“Just want to dance with you for a bit,” Harry insisted.

“There’s no music,” Xander pointed out.

Harry stopped, pulling away suddenly to go over to the entertainment center. He fiddled with it for a moment before walking back over to Xander, now with an unfamiliar country tune playing softly in the background.

Xander accepted Harry’s hands without question, taking one of them in his own and allowing the other to be placed on his shoulder. He matched Harry’s stance and put his own free hand on Harry’s waist, spinning in a slow waltz as directed by Harry’s stumbling footwork.

“What’s going on?” he tried to ask, only to have Harry cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Just want it to be you and me,” Harry said a few seconds later. “Just a normal boy and a normal girl.”

“Okay,” Xander replied. They continued spinning as the song played, melancholy and sweet as it filled the room. “Have we met before?” he decided to ask, thinking that if this was what Harry needed to feel okay, then it wouldn’t hurt to play along. “Or are we strangers?”

“We’re in love,” Harry said in a surprisingly strong voice. “You want to ask me to marry you, but you haven’t found the right time to propose.”

A small smile slowly crept onto Xander’s face as they continued to dance. “How long have we been together?” he asked.

“About four years,” was Harry’s confident reply. “It was love at first sight.”

“It was,” Xander couldn’t stop himself from saying.

Harry drew a little closer, tucking his head under Xander’s chin again, molding their bodies together until it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

“If I asked you right now,” Xander asked, his lips brushing against the too-short strands of Harry’s hair, “would you say yes?”

Harry pulled back far enough to look Xander in the eye, his expression sad and serious. “If you were a normal boy and I was a normal girl?” he asked.

Xander nodded.

“In a heartbeat.”

2019 (Daylight)

“Keep going.”

Xander lifted his head, squinting against the bright sunlight that streamed in from the window above their bed, casting a soft warm glow across the planes of Harry’s back. She’d been on her stomach for more than an hour, Xander’s face buried between her legs. He wasn’t sure how many times she’d come now, but he was surprised she still had the stamina for more.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to use my fingers?” he asked.

Harry lifted her head to peer at him from over her shoulder. “You’re the one that said we should spend all day fucking,” she reminded him. “I don’t want to wear myself out.”

“You’re wearing _me_ out,” Xander admitted. “My tongue hurts.”

Harry pouted but rolled over onto her back and lifted her legs. “Go on then,” she coaxed.

She was already spit-slick and open when Xander pushed into her, the sensation not unlike sinking his cock into a girl’s pussy after he’d gotten her wet with his mouth first.

“You feel so good,” Xander told her as he rocked into her slowly, the words just another way of saying ‘I miss you’, just like everything else. Every word he uttered, every orgasm he’d given her, all of it meant the same thing in the secret language that only he and Harry knew.

“Harder,” Harry begged, and it sounded almost like ‘I love you’ when it reached Xander’s ears. Her hair was golden against the pillow where the sunlight had caught it, and Xander fucked into her like he was in a trance, swallowed up in her strange beauty as she came undone while he watched. She was overwhelming; he didn’t know where to look—her eyelashes, her tattoos, the divots of his thumbs pressing into her hips, the jade cross that he’d bought for her yesterday hanging between her tits, sliding across her goose-pimpled skin with each thrust of his cock inside her.

He was still staring at her even after they showered so that they could make themselves presentable for the one meal they’d obligated themselves to join Max and Kath for that day.

Harry arched an eyebrow as she pulled a pair of panties up her legs. They were going to Max’s apartment for dinner, so there was no need for her to worry about being photographed. Once she’d put on her bra and underwear, on went the dress she’d asked Xander to pick out for her.

“You look like you want to say something,” she remarked with a curious smile.

“I do,” Xander admitted, “but I think it’ll sound shitty.”

Harry motioned for him to continue anyway.

Xander sucked in a deep breath. “I think I’m not as shallow as I used to be,” he told her.

Harry paused with her dress half-buttoned. “Because of me?” she asked.

Xander nodded.

“You’re right,” she replied with a nervous laugh, her fingers stumbling over the buttons as she started up again. “That does sound shitty.”

“It’s not—I’m not saying—” Xander stopped himself, trying to figure out the best way to convey what he actually meant so that she would understand. “I just mean that I always think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he finally said. “It doesn’t matter what your hair looks like or which clothes you want to wear. Every time I look at you I feel like I’m staring into the sun.”

Harry laughed again, but the tension had gone out of it. She moved into Xander’s space again, slotting herself between his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed, her painted fingernails curled into the shoulders of his sweater. “We’ve really got to get you a better writer for these heartfelt speeches,” she joked with a lopsided smile.

“Hey.” Xander adopted a faux pout. “I’m trying.”

“I know.” Harry leaned down to kiss him, long and deep. They lost themselves in it for a long moment until Harry finally came to her senses again and pulled away. “We’re gonna be late,” she said, her dress flaring up around her thighs as she spun around to grab a pair of boots from the rack by the closet door.

Xander didn’t move, half-tempted to pull her back down onto the bed and rip the dress right off of her so they could start again. But they still had time for that after dinner was through. He got up with a quiet sigh and reached out to take her hand as soon as she’d finished putting on her shoes.

“Ready?” he asked her.

She looked up and smiled as she twined her fingers with his. “Always.”


End file.
